#concrete calgary

[edwardsconcrete]

Premium Concrete Calgary Solutions for Residential and Commercial Projects | Edwards Concrete

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[panicinthestudio]

"Bricks and Mortality: Shining a light on the Lost Buildings of Calgary", Calgary Herald, March 23, 2018

Hotel York, Calgary's newest hotel Seventh Ave. at Centre St., ca. 1930, via Internet Archive

[craigawilliamsphotography]

[reasonsforhope]

"In some cities, as many as one in four office spaces are vacant. Some start-ups are giving them a second life – as indoor farms growing crops as varied as kale, cucumber and herbs.

Since its 1967 construction, Canada's "Calgary Tower", a 190m (623ft) concrete-and-steel observation tower in Calgary, Alberta, has been home to an observation deck, panoramic restaurants and souvenir shops. Last year, it welcomed a different kind of business: a fully functioning indoor farm.

Sprawling across 6,000sq m (65,000 sq ft), the farm, which produces dozens of crops including strawberries, kale and cucumber, is a striking example of the search for city-grown food. But it's hardly alone. From Japan to Singapore to Dubai, vertical indoor farms – where crops can be grown in climate-controlled environments with hydroponics, aquaponics or aeroponics techniques – have been popping up around the world.

While indoor farming had been on the rise for years, a watershed moment came during the Covid-19 pandemic, when disruptions to the food supply chain underscored the need for local solutions. In 2021, $6bn (£4.8bn) in vertical farming deals were registered globally – the peak year for vertical farming investment. As the global economy entered its post-pandemic phase, some high-profile startups like Fifth Season went out of business, and others including Planted Detroit and AeroFarms running into a period of financial difficulty. Some commentators questioned whether a "vertical farming bubble" had popped.

But a new, post-pandemic trend may give the sector a boost. In countries including Canada and Australia, landlords are struggling to fill vacant office spaces as companies embrace remote and hybrid work. In the US, the office vacancy rate is more than 20%.

"Vertical farms may prove to be a cost-effective way to fill in vacant office buildings," says Warren Seay, Jr, a real estate finance partner in the Washington DC offices of US law firm ArentFox Schiff, who authored an article on urban farm reconversions. 

There are other reasons for the interest in urban farms, too. Though supply chains have largely recovered post-Covid-19, other global shocks, including climate change, geopolitical turmoil and farmers' strikes, mean that they continue to be vulnerable – driving more cities to look for local food production options...

Thanks to artificial light and controlled temperatures, offices are proving surprisingly good environments for indoor agriculture, spurring some companies to convert part of their facilities into small farms. Since 2022, Australia's start-up Greenspace has worked with clients like Deloitte and Commonwealth Bank to turn "dead zones", like the space between lifts and meeting rooms, into 2m (6ft) tall hydroponic cabinets growing leafy greens.

On top of being adaptable to indoor farm operations, vacant office buildings offer the advantage of proximity to final consumers.

In a former paper storage warehouse in Arlington, about a mile outside of Washington DC, Jacqueline Potter and the team at Area 2 Farms are growing over 180 organic varieties of lettuce, greens, root vegetables, herbs and micro-greens. By serving consumers 10 miles away or less, the company has driven down transport costs and associated greenhouse emissions.

This also frees the team up to grow other types of food that can be hard to find elsewhere – such as edible flower species like buzz buttons and nasturtium. "Most crops are now selected to be grown because of their ability to withstand a 1,500-mile journey," Potter says, referring to the average distance covered by crops in the US before reaching customers. "In our farm, we can select crops for other properties like their nutritional value or taste."

Overall, vertical farms have the potential to outperform regular farms on several environmental sustainability metrics like water usage, says Evan Fraser, professor of geography at the University of Guelph in Ontario, Canada and the director of the Arell Food Institute, a research centre on sustainable food production. Most indoor farms report using a tiny fraction of the water that outdoor farms use. Indoor farms also report greater output per square mile than regular farms.

Energy use, however, is the "Achilles heel" of this sector, says Fraser: vertical farms need a lot of electricity to run lighting and ventilation systems, smart sensors and automated harvesting technologies. But if energy is sourced from renewable sources, they can outperform regular farms on this metric too, he says. 

Because of variations in operational setup, it is hard to make a general assessment of the environmental, social and economic sustainability of indoor farms, says Jiangxiao Qiu, a landscape ecologist at the University of Florida and author of a study on urban agriculture's role in sustainability. Still, he agrees with Fraser: in general, urban indoor farms have higher crop yield per square foot, greater water and nutrient-use efficiency, better resistance to pests and shorter distance to market. Downsides include high energy use due to lighting, ventilation and air conditioning.

They face other challenges, too. As Seay notes, zoning laws often do not allow for agricultural activity within urban areas (although some cities like Arlington, Virginia, and Cincinnati, Ohio, have recently updated zoning to allow indoor farms). And, for now, indoor farms have limited crop range. It is hard to produce staple crops like wheat, corn or rice indoors, says Fraser. Aside from leafy greens, most indoor facilities cannot yet produce other types of crops at scale.

But as long as the post-pandemic trends of remote work and corporate downsizing will last, indoor farms may keep popping up in cities around the world, Seay says. 

"One thing cities dislike more than anything is unused spaces that don't drive economic growth," he says. "If indoor farm conversions in cities like Arlington prove successful, others may follow suit.""

-via BBC, January 27, 2025

[drowninginthewhispers]

Midcentury Home Office - Studio Inspiration for a mid-sized mid-century modern built-in desk medium tone wood floor home studio remodel with white walls

[weepingtilecalgary]

Weeping Tiles Calgary

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Weeping Tiles Calgary unpredictable weather patterns have made it imperative for homeowners to invest in an effective weeping tile system to protect their properties from water damage and basement flooding. With the weeping tiles Calgary services we offer, you can protect the structural integrity of your home and enhance your indoor living environment. Be diligent in your selection process, and choose a reputable service provider that offers comprehensive solutions, regular maintenance, and emergency support to ensure your peace of mind. By investing in weeping tiles and the services they provide, you are investing in the long-term health and resiliency of your home in this beautiful but often challenging city.

[nicolecupcake]

Underground in Calgary

An illustration of a mid-sized minimalist underground basement with a light wood floor, white walls, a regular fireplace, and a wood fireplace surround.

[calcleansealusa]

A concrete resurfacing contractor revitalizes surfaces with precision. Through skillful application of coatings and techniques, they transform worn concrete, enhancing aesthetics and durability. For more information read the article.

[monstameme]

Concrete Slab - Contemporary Patio Patio kitchen - mid-sized contemporary backyard concrete patio kitchen idea with no cover

[clowniconography]

Charles, the Raven

I had this little short story idea a few days ago, the first one I've written since leaving school. The vibe I was going for was melancholy but still generally sweet.

--

The roof of the Church of St. Peter on Calgary Street was a large, rectangular plane. It was mostly featureless save for a single door leading into the building below and a handful of dark gray vents in a grid throughout its surface. The rest of the roof was off-white concrete, bleached from decades of sun exposure.

This flat emptiness with its lone point of entry into the rest of the building meant the roof was particularly well suited to coven meetings.

Irving was always the first to arrive, followed closely by Ethel and Marie, always together. The rest would appear soon after, until the roof was crowded with black-feathered bodies, all perfectly hidden from view to anyone passing below.

Every few moments Irving would poke his head over the corner of the roof, watching for something. About fifteen minutes in each time, like clockwork, his regal call would sound over the petty conversations of the group.

I see him coming! He’s here!

A few other coven members would cautiously poke their heads over the side of the roof to see a tall figure approaching the building, weighed down by a number of fast food bags.

Charles is here! He’s here! The chorus of voices would return.

Charles’ arms were usually pressed tightly to his sides beneath his dark, shapeless jacket. Ever since he’d gone through his change, he’d felt the cold much more acutely than the other coven members.

Soon after the group had spotted him he would disappear into the church, at which point you could almost count the seconds exactly until he would emerge onto the roof. He was always met immediately with a cacophony of appreciative calls, some of them more ecstatic to receive his delivery than they were to see Charles himself.

He’d sit on the same gray vent as always, setting the food bags beside him, and then say something to the effect of; “Well, let’s get this out of the way first.”

Charles would proceed to pick up one of the bags and fling forth a shower of french fries towards the waiting beaks below him. The type of fries changed by the week: curly, shoestring, crinkle cut. Charles knew that his audience appreciated novelty.

He’d repeat this process with the other bags until all the fries had been distributed. Once the coven’s beaks were satisfied he’d usually pull out something for himself, a single wrapped burger or maybe a milkshake, and eat in silence alongside the rest of the group.

Charles still more or less had the appearance of a raven, except for the fact that he now looked like a human being. His eyes, his nose, his hair—any observant creature should have been able to tell that he was not really human, but rather a bird. It was just the fact that he’d taken the shape of a human spontaneously a few months before and hadn’t yet figured out how to turn himself back which hindered him from this reality.

In that time the only other human beings who had detected his ruse were, upon further inspection, actually animals as well. Charles had met the eyes of an extremely nervous-seeming pig numerous times at the supermarket, and had likewise discovered a rather friendly chameleon working at the local library. A jackrabbit he’d met in a bank had seemed to think she’d gotten one over on him when she’d pointed out the feathers sticking through the back of his hair, and had blanched when he responded that her pointed ears were slightly visible through her winter cap. She’d been sulkily silent every time they’d encountered each other for weeks afterwards.

Charles had no idea whether these creatures had chosen voluntarily to live among humans or if they, like him, could not find their way back to their original forms. He imagined it was probably rude to ask.

Once Charles was finished eating, Irving liked to land on his shoulder to make sure his friend could hear his voice over the wind. He knew that Charles’ hearing was not as keen as it was when he was a bird, and wanted to make sure he didn’t get left out of anything.

For a while after his change Charles had been bereft of language completely, either raven or human. He’d been silent, listening, as if he was relearning speech from the beginning (despite the natural affinity among ravens for all human language). Once he had sufficiently observed the speech of humans he finally came to share their language, although his tongue was slow and heavy at first, his throat croaking.

Shortly after he began speaking is when he’d gotten a job at the church. They took him for a strangely well-dressed invalid, lacking as he was any personal history. Charles thought it best to tell people he had no memory of his life preceding the last few months, since he couldn’t even explain to himself the truth of what had happened to him.

That was how he managed to acquire a place to sleep and a job sweeping the halls of the building, and more importantly access to the roof, which was a highly superior meeting place to the public park they’d had to use for the first few weeks after his transformation. Everyone in the coven had been perfectly understanding of Charles’ newfound limitations, but their preference for elevation was still extremely obvious.

Once everyone’s bellies were full, Irving would command the official start of the meeting.

In the past, meetings had been very generalized, everyone allowed to speak up about minute personal issues or relations between the coven and the creatures of the surrounding ecosystem. Recently, for obvious reasons, the meetings had become much more Charles-focused.

Charles had never been particularly verbose in the first place, but Irving insisted he keep everyone abreast to his discoveries in the human world. He always began by updating the group on his progress with figuring out how to reverse his transformation.

Considering that he had no idea what had caused the change in the first place, re-engineering the process was proving to be very difficult. Humanity’s wealth of accumulated knowledge, the immensity of which overwhelmed him initially, had turned out to be largely useless this respect.

When Charles first approached the church it was with the hope that they might have some knowledge on how to turn him back. As he slowly increased his exploration of the human world by small degrees, he gathered the significance humans tended to place upon the church over other buildings. However, he had eventually realized that the answers offered by the people within were of a more metaphorical type, and came away instead with a job.

The reverend who had decided to hire him was the only actual human Charles had ever attempted to explain his predicament to, although he had not completely ruled out the idea that the man was in fact a particularly well-disguised badger. He had explained to Charles at the time that whatever it was that had happened to him, it had happened for a reason. He explained that it was the job of people like the reverend to help people like Charles to get back on their feet.

Charles knew by that point that there was neither reason nor cause behind what had happened to him, and he didn’t understand what it meant to “get back on his feet” considering that having two legs was one of the only aspects of his anatomy which had remained consistent as of late. He nonetheless appreciated the reverend’s kindness.

His new job afforded him many opportunities to passively observe the lives of humanity, and on Sundays the main church building was full of a chorus whose loveliness nearly rivaled the most practiced birdsong he’d heard. One of the choir boys had set up a phone for him and shown him how to make calls, as well as how to download music. Charles had grown immensely proud of his expanding musical and technological knowledge. He had attempted to relay this excitement during coven meetings at various points, but they had seemed mostly confused as to why he was so taken with artificial music. Ethel and Marie had entertained him on the topic for a while with a hint of fascination, and while they enjoyed trying to mimic the voices on the phone they soon grew bored of it.

After a general update on the fact-finding effort, Irving would begin fielding questions on Charles’ behalf.

At one point Jean-Pierre piped up to ask when Charles would get a new job in a taller building so that they could move to a new meeting place again. Charles explained that it would be quite a while before he’d be able to get a different job considering his complete lack of a resume.

Marie intervened to ask what a resume was. Charles began to capitulate, but Irving remembered that this was actually the third time he’d been asked this exact question at a meeting and quickly cut his response short (although Irving himself didn’t recall what the answer was). Some of the coven members particularly enjoyed the sound of the word resume, and a few mimicking shouts of Resume! Resume! Could be heard throughout the crowd before Irving firmly quieted them.

At the end of the section dedicated to Charles’ recent observations of humanity, Irving would finally open up the meeting to whoever else wanted to speak. At that point there would be little time remaining, and with everyone antsy to get on their way only the most important pieces of news were allowed priority.

One example was the announcement from Ethel and Marie (whose courting had been drawn-out and public to an almost nauseatingly sweet degree) that they would soon be breaking off from the coven to pair off into their own homestead. In response, the group erupted into congratulatory calls of all kinds. The two birds in question puffed their feathers in pride. Charles grinned and said that he would have to bring something particularly special to the pair’s final meeting to mark the occasion.

Irving, whose own courting plans had recently been cut short, was glad that everyone was too distracted to notice that he kept his beak solemnly shut during all of this. After the calls had died down he voiced some brief congratulatory words of his own and then curtly ended the meeting.

Before leaving, about half the coven members would usually approach Charles to drop items at his feet as thank-yous for the meal. The items would swell into a glittering pile of variable usefulness, hair clips and shiny buttons and coins all mingled together. A few of the gift givers would offer greetings and well-wishes before flapping off. Once almost everyone was sky-bound Charles would dutifully gather the pile, placing coins in one pocket and everything else in the other.

Irving could tell that for Charles, moving as a human was exhausting. He was much less nimble than he had been at bird size, and seemed to be weighed down by the presence of his own body. Oftentimes after the rest of the coven had flown off, Irving would stay behind to talk with his friend.

Observing him on one such day, Irving realized Charles was at that moment more human-looking than ever. He’d shed nearly all the feathers he’d had after first changing, and his cheeks had a flush to them which Irving did not recognize. Noticing these changes made Irving quite sad.

Charles was gazing off at the departing flock, clearly thinking about something. Once his closest friend, his thoughts had become harder and harder for Irving to parse ever since his transformation. This, too, made Irving very sad.

When your jacket flaps in the wind like that, it looks like it could be wings. Said Irving to Charles, attempting to cheer up his friend once the rest of the coven had disappeared into the gray clouds.

Charles remained silent for a while, and Irving thought he might not say anything at all, as was often his want when he wasn’t being forced to speak.

“I think I might have to leave the coven. I don’t know if you all should visit me anymore,” He replied finally.

Irving’s claws gripped his friend’s shoulder a little tighter. Don’t be like that. We’ll find a way to turn you back.

Charles gave him a thin smile, a courtesy he was unable to return. “Thank you, Irving.”

After seeing off his friend, Charles stayed on the roof a while. He could still see silhouettes of birds being tossed about by wind on the horizon, but from that distance he could not recognize any of them.

During that day’s meeting he had not told Irving about his actual news; that he had begun to meet up regularly with the chameleon for coffee, and they had been joined that week by the jackrabbit (who had finally gotten over her aversion to his presence). Having acquired a phone number, he had resolved to give it to the pig the next time they met.

He had also not, in all those months, been able to tell Irving the one thing which he was absolutely sure his friend would not be able to understand. That ever since his feet had become anchored to the ground, he had not once missed the feeling of flight.

[bropunzeling]

🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation - matthew/leon!!

for you and @hopetorun

At some point, Matthew figured he'd get -- not used to it, but numb to it, maybe. The constant ticking clock in the back of his brain, counting down the seconds even as he tries his hardest not to think about it.

Before, it was only for hour-long increments, pieces of the evening before one of them would have to sneak back home or to the hotel. Then again, before, there was always the reassurance of a next time, and soon, only weeks away. Or even a drive to Red Deer, if they were up to it and didn't want to wait.

Matthew did a lot of driving, that last year in Calgary.

Now, though, there is no easy halfway point between them, and the time between encounters seems to always be counted in months. Now, Matthew is cognizant of every single second he has where Leon is in his house, in his bed, in his space. These few days where the Oilers are in Florida, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Two days left when Leon kissed him on the shoulder, sweaty from sex, the loss from that evening apparently already behind him. One day left when they sat at the edge of the pool, Leon’s toes knocking against Matthew’s ankle, his fingers loose around Matthew’s own as the textured concrete bit into the palms of Matthew’s hands. Eight hours left as Matthew dug his chin into Leon's shoulder, watching as Leon poked out another transparent excuse as to why he wasn't going out with the team that night.

Ten minutes left, now, as Leon pushes him against the kitchen cabinets and kisses him. He tastes like coffee, a hint of mint from his toothpaste. Not the nicest combination, and yet here Matthew is, trying to get as much of it as he can. Grabbing at Leon’s shoulders, his hips, nails digging in. Like if he holds on hard enough, the countdown will freeze.

Leon hums, licks into his mouth. In the beginning, that was a thing Matthew wasn't sure he liked. How proprietary Leon was: assuming he was hot, assuming he was funny, assuming he was right, assuming Matthew wanted him. Didn't matter if his assumptions were right or not; they rubbed the wrong way, and Matthew tried his hardest to make sure Leon knew nothing about this was going to be easy.

Says something, maybe, that Matthew doesn't mind anymore. That he’s better at letting things be easy. Besides, most of those assumptions turned out to be true, in the end.

Leon pulls back just enough to nip at the spot under Matthew’s ear. His thumb has found Matthew’s hip, rubbing maddeningly slow circles against thin skin. Crazy how even just that goes straight through Matthew like a lightening bolt, turning everything tense and urgent. Doesn’t matter that they fucked this morning, and the night before that, and the morning before that. He’s all spun up all over again.

Out of the corner of Matthew’s eye, he can see the oven clock glaring at him, red and impossible to dispute. Seven minutes left.

"You’re going to be late," Matthew says. Breathier than he wants. Leon’s mouth is hot against the underside of his jaw.

Leon hums; scrapes his teeth. Matthew shudders.

Matthew closes his eyes. Big mistake. Now all he can do is feel Leon close to him, body heat and his particular smell, the hair product he likes mixed with Matthew's bodywash, and the coffee on his breath, and fuck, Matthew wishes he could have this all the goddamn time, every morning, every evening, Leon in his kitchen, Leon in his life. That he didn't have to wait months and months before he has it again.

"Leon," Matthew says, shaky. He doesn't want this to stop, but he doesn’t want Leon to push his luck. He's pretty sure he cares more about that than Leon does, and it's not fair. Just like it’s not fair that he's the one with the timer always ticking in his head.

Leon groans, but he does pull back, resting his forehead on Matthew’s shoulder. His hair is long now, ticklish against Matthew’s cheek. "I hate this part," he says, soft.

Matthew swallows hard and nods. "Yeah," he says, equally quiet. "Me too."

For a moment, neither of them move. Just stand there in Matthew’s kitchen, Leon’s hands on Matthew’s hips, Matthew clutching at his back. Breathing in time, fast, then slow.

Then Leon stands up all the way. "Okay," he says. The expression on his face could break Matthew’s heart. Makes him want to promise things he's not sure he's allowed to promise -- that it won't be that long before they're together again; that it won't be that long before they figure out a solution that doesn't sting this much every time they part. That it’s going to be easier.

Makes him want to ask things he's not sure he's allowed to ask, too. Things about contracts. Things about the future. Things about looking ahead further than one game at a time.

"Three weeks," he says instead, reaching and thumbing at the corner of Leon’s eye. Watching Leon’s eyes flutter shut, expression smoothing out. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Leon says. He sways close again, kisses Matthew quick. "Three weeks."

They gather up Leon’s stuff, do a quick check for all the things he might have forgotten -- chargers, AirPods, t-shirts. Whatever's missing, Matthew can pack. Then Matthew’s seeing him out the door and into the Uber, waving once before the car peels away, and the countdown starts all over again.

[edwardsconcrete]

Expert Commercial Concrete Services for New Construction in Calgary | Edwards Concrete

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[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 9 - Rebalance

Stepping away from the main event a little for a look at how the Tinies are doing…

❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛

Thunderbird Two sat steaming on the icy concrete of the hospital’s helipad. It was a bright morning in Calgary but everything was deeply, deeply white. It was only marginally above eyeball-freezing temperature and it would definitely have been more sensible to wait for Grandma to finish whatever argument she was having with the pharmacy inside… either inside the ship, or the hospital. But Gordon didn’t seem to want to do either of those and Alan sort of got it, so… here they were.

Alan paced the length of the big green behemoth. Slowly. Carefully, testing each step before putting his weight on that foot. He didn’t want to slip and cause an incident. If only they’d suited up his uniform boots would have been far more grippy… and warmer. Still, he needed to concentrate on something and the act of walking was, ironically, safer ground than most of the other options. He shivered.

“You alright, Allie?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” He didn’t look around. Focussed on placing his feet one at a time into the footprints he left on the last pass.

“Well I dunno, perhaps the horrifying experience of our most consistent, reliable elder brother suddenly losing his sanity, yelling at our dead father and nearly throwing himself and Scott down a cliff?”

Alan flinched. Then looked down at Gordon who was crouched by one of Two’s struts, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. He looked young, and lost and in need of a big brother. But right now there weren’t any available, only Alan the perpetual younger brother. Alan the baby who needed protecting from everything. Alan the small and incompetent who hid a terrible secret inside.

If Gordon knew… if Scott and John knew… what if Virgil told them? Did Virgil even know?

He may only have been a little kid but he had been smart enough to know he’d messed up. Smart enough to join the dots between his clumsiness and Virgil getting sick. He hadn’t been smart enough to understand why one brother had left him, but he had known he was to blame for nearly losing the second.

He grit his teeth and started pacing again.

And then paused and made a U-turn back to where his usually irrepressibly sunshiney brother huddled, stony-faced in the shadow of his wingman’s ship. Alan crouched alongside him and they both stared into the distance for a while.

“This sucks.” He ventured.

“Yup.”

“You alright?”

“No.”

Alan let out a humourless laugh.

“Sorry, stupid question.”

“I asked it too.”

“Yeah, and I lied. Sorry.”

“S’ok.”

He really wasn’t very good at this. He tried to think what Scott or Virgil would do, and mostly the talking bit happened later… the first response to a sad sibling usually boiled down to one of those magical all-encompassing big brother hugs. But surely he needed to be bigger than Gordon for that to work? Alan was the baby, he didn’t have the arms for it. Didn’t have the presence.

Yet… maybe it wasn’t about size. Thunderbird Three was, after all, a lot bigger than Two. But Two’s wings had an unparalleled ability to shelter them all. While Three was adventure, Two was safety. And Four, Alan realised, depended on her more than any of them.

Right now Four needed Two badly.

But Three was better than nothing.

He held his breath and reached around Gordon’s shoulders and pulled him close. His elder brother stiffened for a moment, clearly conflicted. Then seemed to melt into Alan’s side with a gasp. Alan wrapped his other arm around him and squeezed tighter.

“What if we don’t get him back, Alan?”

“We will. He will be ok.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but… I’m hoping really really hard.”

“I guess that’s all we’ve got.”

“That and… we always have each other? Tracys stick together no matter what, right?”

Gordon huffed a small laugh from somewhere in the vicinity of Alan’s armpit.

“What?”

“You’re just a teeny tiny Scott clone, you know that right?”

“I’m not that small!”

Alan flicked Gordon on the ear. Gordon jabbed him in the side which made him squeal uncontrollably. They scrabbled for a few moments before both tipped over and lay there for a minute, laughing the kind of laughs you laugh when the only other option is to cry.

💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️💛❤️

Sally hurried out of the lift, dragging a small suitcase and clutching the paper pharmacy bag she’d had to shout down three junior pharmacists and two senior to obtain. Turned out, even when you have the consultant psychiatrist convinced, the pharma team were very reluctant to dispense an older drug, even if it had been proven to work well on a particular patient in the past. She didn’t have time to mess about with the shiny new third gen antipsys when she didn’t know how her boy would react. She just needed some certainty. They all did. That she’d managed to make them see sense without having to use the Name was professionally satisfying. She didn’t really want to risk that kind of speculation right now. People could be unkind about things they didn’t understand.

Somewhat apprehensive as to what state Gordon and Alan might be in, she was surprised, although not unpleasantly, to find both younger brothers on their feet, brushing slush from their clothes and hair… flicking it at each other just a little more than seemed strictly necessary. She raised an eyebrow in askance then lowered it, deciding not to go there. Whatever kept these two going right now was fine by her. She hugged them both briefly but hard, then heaved the case on to the platform.

“Right boys, let’s go home.”

[rabbitcruiser]

Bow River Pathway, Calgary (No. 3)

The Centre Street Bridge is a historic bridge in Calgary, Alberta, crossing the Bow River, along Centre Street. The lower deck connects Riverfront Avenue in Chinatown with Memorial Drive, while the upper elevated deck crosses Memorial Drive as well, reaching into the community of Crescent Heights.

Centre Street Bridge is the central point of the quadrant system of the city.

It was built by The City of Calgary in 1916 for $375,000. It replaced the MacArthur Bridge, a steel truss bridge built in 1907 by a land developer called the Centre Street Bridge Company Limited. The MacArthur Bridge was destroyed by a flood in 1915. Centre Street Bridge was designed by John F. Greene, and features an upper and lower deck, cantilevered balconies on the upper deck, and four large cast concrete lions atop two pairs of ornamental concrete pavilions flanking each end of the bridge. The lions were cast by Scottish mason James L. Thomson. They were modelled after the bronze lions by Landseer at the base of Nelson's Column in Trafalgar Square, London. The pavilions are ornamented with symbols of Canada and the United Kingdom: buffalo heads, maple leaves, shamrocks (Ireland), roses (England), and thistles (Scotland).

The upper deck, a reinforced concrete arch structure, spans 178 meters (584 ft) and is 15 meters (49 ft) wide. The lower deck, an "I" girders structure, runs for 150 meters (490 ft) and is 5.5 meters (18 ft) wide.

The Centre Street Bridge was listed as a Municipal Historic Resource for Calgary in 1992.

The bridge went through extensive restoration in 2001, when it was closed for one year. The lower deck is configured with reversible lanes. The original lions were replaced with replicas after considerable debate. Local legends of adjacent Chinatown hold that the lions would come alive after dark and roam the city streets. One of the original lions is now located at City Hall, the remaining three were placed in long-term storage. In April 2013, a city committee voted unanimously to place the remaining lions at one or more of the new West LRT C-Train (tram) stations. In 2018, one of original lions was repaired, conserved and is now displayed in Rotary Park. The remaining two lions are in storage to protect and preserve them for foreseeable future.

Source: Wikipedia

[midnight-in-paris9]

I’m so sorry, I’m pretty new to hockey, but why would Carter Heart be getting indicted?

TW: SA

So nothing is concrete here, and before I say anything this is all alleged until proven in a court of law.

That being said - I would look up the World Junior Hockey Team 2018 Allegations. Please note it is dealing with sexual assault allegations so go careful if that's something you aren't safe to interact with.

There was a group assault on a young woman, which was subsequently covered up by Hockey Canada until a report came out once the young woman decided to come forward.

5 members of the 2018 roster are - as confirmed by the police department - on the list of people involved. Carter was the goalie on that team. He has also been confirmed to have been present at the event preceding the assault.

We do not know anymore as there is a gag order on everything, but we've all been waiting for Hockey Canada and the police department where the incident took place to release their reports.

This, to me personally, smells like blood in the water considering Dillon Dube (also someone rumored to be part of the group of assailants) has also taken a leave of absence from the Calgary Flames citing "mental health reasons".

Again, this is all alleged so on and so forth. But I'd do some research on it.

[deathbypunches]

Fig 1: A boxelder

How to Guerilla Trees (in CALGARY)

In my region of Southern Alberta, there are a few trees worth planting in order to enhance the urban forest. Granted, these trees are partially or completely removed from their ecological context half the time, but they still provide some services- shade, carbon storage, habitat for birds or certain insects. The list goes on.

The species I'd recommend here are Acer negundo, Fraxinus pennsylvannica, Populus balsamifera, Populus deltoides occidentalis, and Salix sp. for their ease of cultivation... In some cases I think Prunus sp. can be a decent choice... I'll use common names from here on... boxelder/Manitoba maple, ash, cottonwood / poplar, willow. Maybe cherry, maybe "moutain ash" or Rowan (sorbus sp).

What is a microhabitat?

This tree here is a boxelder on the third summer of it's little life. It is in a small depression in the soil that collects slightly more water than the surrounding. It is protected by stones, a ribbon, and stakes. This tree is watered every week or two in the heat of summer, if it hasn't rained. I believe it has a good future ahead of it.

You might notice that small trees sprout quite often along the shade of fences, or between a fence and a shed, etc. These places are sheltered from trampling and mowing, and the soil stays more moist and cool in the heat of the summer.

You may also notice that ash and Russian elms particularily can grow in cracks on the sidewalk. Growing out of the concrete isn't as bad as it appears, because there is much less competition for the soil beneath a concrete slab, especially for a plant that can grow a large root system like a tree does. Even if the soil doesn't get rained on directly, water percolates through the soil from the surroundings.

Also, the direction of a slope can significantly affect the amount of direct sunlight the soil recieves, or the amount of water that collects there. The bottom of ravines, and north slopes are the most moist. The top of a ridge or a south facing slope is the driest.

Boxelder and Ash

Boxelder and to a lesser extend ash are very hardy trees that can hold their own in this climate without having to be watered once established. These trees grow reasonably fast and are native at least to the great plains of North America. They are well adapted to growing in sites disturbed by human activities, and can also be found as far south as Texas or Arizona along sheltered streams- so their ability to survive the changing climate seems pretty certain. I also have a hunch that before the last glaciation, the range of these species probably extended further north than it does now, along with perhaps oaks and elms. Boxelder is considered a low value tree, and maybe I'll change my mind someday, but for now, it is useful because it is so easy to grow. These trees are partially tolerant of shade when they are young - and ash seedlings in particular can be found growing underneath spruce trees.

It is easy to source seedlings of boxelder, ash, and cherry. If they are in a spot that isn't exactly a good long term site for a tree, and you can either pot them or plant them somewhere else right away. Sometimes vacant lots can have dozens of tree seedlings. You have to be careful digging up even a small tree as the taproot can be a lot longer than you would expect even for a seedling that is barely 10 cm tall. I think it is better to pot them and keep them for at least a season so that they get large enough to be conspicuous.

There are multiple reasons to prefer growing a tree to conspicuous size-

1- You can find them again. You ought to mark a tree with a stake anyway, though.

2- Once a tree is 2 feet tall, it might be safe from public mowing because it has crossed the threshold of looking like nothing or a little weed to looking like a little tree.

3- you can be sure that it didn't die from being dug up.

4- A tree that is around 2 feet tall can graduate from significant competition with weeds

I choose a microhabitat where there is a depression in the land, or at the base of a slope, or especially on a north or east facing slope. These places will dry out the least.

It is also easy to collect and sprout boxelder and ash from seed en mass - you can collect kilograms of seed in the fall and winter. The seeds probably have less than a 1 in 1000 chance of surviving their first year on barren soil, but they provide mulch for their own germination. Barren soil is good enough to get them started anywhere that isn't likely to be mowed. Ravines and north or east slopes are best, as the seedlings can have a hard time getting enough water. They probably will need some water in hot stretches from July through September to survive the first 2 summers, unless they are in a particularly good site.

It helps to mark them with stakes, to mulch them. The mulch legitimizes the planting as "intentional and human," along with helping reduce competition from weeds and maintaining soil moisture. In places with mowing risk, mark them with a ring of large stones. They can be destroyed by rodents and could benefit from some protection, but seem to be less attractive to rodents than poplars.

Cherry and Rowan

There are native species in both the genus Prunus and Sorbus, but neither of these native species are popular or even common within urban habitats compared to the horticultural cultivars- the native cherry is scrubby, but common in grassland habitats - it can be difficult to identify with certainty, but P. virginiana (the native variety) has shorter racemes with sparser, slightly larger flowers and fruits , and has a less tree-like shape. The native rowan are very small trees or scawny shrubs and a very minor component of cooler forests habitats.

Both of these genera are popular flowering trees and decently hardy, and they provide a lot of food for birds. The vast majority of cherry and rowan are Eurasian horticultural varieties. General seedling care applies. Rowan seedlings aren't very common but they can be found in back alleys and gardens where they get some shade. Cherry seedlings are very common, you can most reliably find them in residential construction sites.

Willow and Poplar-Staking

These trees can be grown from seed, but they typically reproduce vegetatively- and are easy to produce with "cuttings." You can take a branch that is about thumb-diameter, cut it into about 30-60 cm stakes, and stick them into wet soil. You'll get pretty decent survival rate as long as they stay moist and are not girdled by rodents. You can keep them in a pot for the first year, or stick them into mud near permanent sources of water. Willow is found near ponds. They easily tolerate having a few shafts removed for cuttings. The largest tree-like ones and the weeping varieties are not native species.

This willow was not watered at all- I put a dozen stakes into the mud on a seep along a south-facing slope. It is 2 years old.

Poplar

There are four species in the bow-river valley and 3 of them are in the "cottonwood" subgroup (if that's valid) that appear to have a more recent ancestor with each other than with the aspens (which is the 4th species). The cottonwoods are easier to grow because they can be started from stakes like willow. Trees in this genus tree NEED full sun, and will create a quite open canopy forest with a very rich understory.

Poplar is the best tree in the bow river valley, as they are a keystone species that supports pretty much the entire ecosystem. Forests of cottonwoods create an extremely diverse patchwork of sub-habitats for a variety of shrubs and wildflowers, and they are food for a huge number of insects. They also have the handy habit of growing extremely quickly and volunteering in turfgrass. The easiest tree to grow is a volunteer poplar- I put a stake on either side of the sucker when it is around 1m tall, surround the base with a 1m ring of softball sized stones, and weed everything within that ring, and place mulch within that ring. The tree should be safe from mowing, but nothing is guaranteed. They can easily become taller than a person by their second complete growing season, and from then on, you don't have to care for them, really.

The deep rooting system and the support of their parent tree (which they are connected to underground) means a volunteer poplar doesn't have to be watered. This tree seems drought tolerant, but its survival actually indicates groundwater. It's not necessarily obvious to a casual observer, but the majority of Calgary is within the bow-river valley, which means it has a huge diffuse groundwater flow from the surrounding uplands. In prairies, trees follow the water- hugging ravines, indents.

The bark of poplars is food for rodents and the leaves are a favorite of aphids, so they might benefit from some protection- a cage of chicken wire, or a wrap around the trunk to protect the bark. They seriously are at high risk of rodent mortality. I don't do anything about aphids personally, as they are the "base of the food chain," but if I was to do something to control them, maybe wiping them off of the leaves would help reduce the damage.

Aspen

Although aspen is ecologically important, it takes extra effort to grow. You can try to protect a sucker in the same way, but they do not grow quite as quickly (less than 1m per year). Aspen cannot grow roots from a branch cutting easily (but allegedly can be done), allegedly they can be grown from a root cutting, or suckers can be dug up. The seeds can be started from the cottony fluff in late spring if the soil is kept perpetually moist and not too HOT. The seedlings are a little bit fragile and a favorite food of rabbits and rodents, so they have to be protected until they are probably about a meter high, and even then the bark is vulnerable to gnawing until they are probably thicker than a thumb.

As of this writing, my only seed-grown aspen have been eaten by rodents. Some of them roasted in the late summer sun. These trees need some care when they are young. I have had success protecting suckers with stones, stakes, and mulch.

Conifers

I've tried digging up and transplanting tiny saplings of spruce, sowing spruce, and marking and protecting small spruce saplings. They grow quite slowly and can have a hard time getting established without shade. These trees are later successional and really benefit from a forested environment- at least in the Calgary metropolitan area, they don't do extremely well without care - besides, the most common spruce in city limits is the non-native Colorado blue spruce. The Alberta white spruce (p. glauca) definitely needs to keep it's feet in the shade- north facing slopes and ravines only- but it does well growing behind fences, in the shade of other trees, between houses, etc.

Pines are not native to the Calgary area, or at least are very rare in natural environments. The lodgepole pine benefits from a slightly cooler climate. The Ponderosa pine is the second closest to being a native species and it may be a decent choice here in the future, but they come from places with much milder winters.

Birch

Birch is sensitive to heat and drought. The seeds can be collected en mass and sown on moist barren soil. I haven't grown birch. I think the paper birch is at its limit for heat tolerance as the climate changes beyond the 21st century in Calgary', and it probably will not compete well with boxelder or ash or the elms in the future. I'm sure it could be grown if it has shaded soil- the north side of a house, behind a fence, etc. The scrubby Betula occidentalis is a common large shrub in the communities of plants along natural water bodies. Collecting and sowing seeds seems easy enough if there is disturbed soil along the margins of a creek. They need constant supply of moisture. I have not cared for a sapling of birch.

Elm

Elms are not native to Alberta, but they are found to the East and the South. They are river valley trees. The American elm is a lovely tree but it doesn't reproduce easily naturally in Calgary (but it does occasionally), probably because it isn't a great climate for the sensitive seedlings. The russian elm is hardier and can be found naturalized in Montana. It probably will become more common in the future. I do not plant elms. I do not plant oaks either. The Bur Oak is native to places East of here. It is possible that in the distant past, Alberta was home to elms and oaks.

Happy sprouting. Wear an orange vest so people know you are doing important work, and I don't recommend digging with a full sized shovel within the city because of underground wires, and because it's super illegal.